tressed for him, and said: "What is the matter, Captain?
are you sick or have you had bad news?" He replied: "Oh, no! Mrs.
Clark, I am not sick or in personal trouble, but don't you feel sorry
that Moses is dead?" I have enlarged somewhat on this Sunday School
because it was somewhat peculiar, and because it was, as there are
good grounds for believing, the first Sunday School organized in this
Northwestern region, perhaps the first Northwest of Detroit.

The country around the fort was beautiful, the climate invigorating,
and in spite of the inconveniences and annoyances experienced by the
pioneer regiment they were not without their enjoyments and
recreations, and looking back through the years, recalling the social
gatherings at each others fireside in the winter, the various indoor
amusements, and the delightful rides and rambles in the summer, I feel
that ours was a happy life.

But the most charming of all our recreations was a ride to "Little
Falls" now "Minnehaha." The picture in my mind of this gem of beauty,
makes the sheet of water wider and more circular than it is now, I
know it was fresher and newer, and there was no saloon there then, no
fence, no tables and benches, cut up and disfigured with names and
nonsense, no noisy railroad, no hotel, it was just our dear pure
"Little Falls" with its graceful ferns, its bright flowers, its bird
music and its lovely water-fall. And while we children rambled on the
banks, and gathered pretty fragrant things fresh from their Maker's
hand, listening the while to sweet sounds in the air, and to the
joyous liquid music of the laughing water, there may have been some
love-making going on in the cozy nooks and corners on the hill side or
under the green trees, for in later years, I have now and then come
upon groups of two, scattered here and there in those same places, who
looked like lovers, which recalled to my mind vividly what I had seen
there long ago. That enchanting spot, so dainty in its loveliness, is
hallowed by a thousand tender associations and it seems more than
cruel to allow its desecration by unholy surroundings and various
forms of vice. Standing beside it now, and remembering it in its
purity, just as God made it, my eyes are full of unshed tears, and its
mellifluous ceaseless song seems pleading to be saved from the
vandalism which threatens to destroy all its sweet influences and make
it common and unclean. But as I, alone, of all who saw it in those